August Rush: As the credits roll
by Elle.Eve09
Summary: I watched this again for the first time in years and felt I wanted to peer behind the curtain to what happens straight after the movie ends. What unfolds between August, Lyla, Louis, and Mr. Jeffries after the concert. From their various POVs.
1. Chapter 1

_Louis' POV_

The orchestra rang out then cut off with such sudden uproarious finality that Louis found it hard to understand how. The small boy – August's baton was hanging limp at his side, the performance seemingly forgotten, and he was staring down at him with such intensity. Those bright blue eyes piercing his. A broad, lopsided smile stretched across his face and again Louis found himself utterly enthralled by this child. He couldn't take his eyes off him. Which was nothing short of remarkable considering the woman standing next to him. Her hand gently placed in his. But as the echo of the final note faded, he felt her shift, drawing his attention back to her. She stepped forward with a choked sob, hand delicately placed over her mouth, and water shining in her eyes as she stared up at August. The look on her face stole his breath away. It was reverent. He wondered what it must be like to be looked at by her that way. Without thought, he moved with her. Hand now in hers there was no way he would be breaking that contact voluntarily. And it was all he could do not to release a sob himself when, as they moved forward, she threaded her fingers through his, clutching his hand tightly. He thought he'd finally begun to let go of dreaming of these hands after that day in Chicago. What it felt like to have them stroke his cheek, thread through his hair, clutch his back. His already hopeless heart now hollow as a dream ended, no matter how unlikely it was to begin with. She was happy, far away, and with another. Someone who she loved. He truly thought he'd never see her again. And this time he believed it. But whatever force had compelled him to seek out the source of that music had sought otherwise.

'I'm coming', he heard her call out as she turned and began to dash along the fence line. Not even glancing back as she pulled Louis forward in tow. He didn't hesitate. He kept pace with her wordlessly. This wasn't a moment for questions. He knew they would only invite answers he wouldn't want. The whys. The years between them. Details of her full and happy married life. He just wanted to hold onto this a bit longer. This feeling. This wholeness. This current. It had been over a decade since he had last felt this way. He'd tried to explain it to Marshall once when he was berating him for his misery.

'How can ya' be so fuckin' torn up with a girl you had for one god damn night bro?'.

'Because when your world has been set alight – with bloody moonlight, a commit, a god damn super nova – then everythin' is darkness when it's gone. Everythin' that seemed alive before just isn't. Like me.'

'You melodramatic fuck, at least do somethin' useful with that bullshit and put it into a song. Just drop the cliché.'

But that is what Marshall never got, he thought. The music leaves you when you're not alive. But here, in this moment, it was all he felt. His soul was vibrating with it.

As they moved, he realised it was August she had called up to. He snuck a glance back and saw the lad perched at the very edge of the stage like he was ready to leap off. The orchestra was standing and bowing behind him. An older woman with her hair pulled back tightly from her face walked forward from the side of the stage and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, seemingly trying to redirect his attention, and get him to take his bow. But his eyes were glued to Lyla and then they were on him again. He must have known Lyla well. 'Maybe she teaches him', he considered. It makes sense the way they were looking at each other with such unbridled joy and surprise. They must both be blown away with what he had created. And to think this boy new Lyla, was connected to her, and he'd had no idea when he'd taken a short reprieve from memories of her in Washington Square that day to approach the lad. It was the most extraordinary jam session of his life. This small boy - from Julliard! He guessed August was just as surprised to see him with Lyla too. Louis found himself excited at the prospect of seeing him again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Mr Richard Jeffries POV_

As the stage slowly began to empty, with those few remaining to shake hands, hug, and congratulate each other, Richard Jeffries began to make his way over to Evan. He was concerned about the shift in him at the end of the performance. He seemed to have become overwhelmed, lost his focus and turned to stare at the crowd. Quite frankly he had wondered if he was the one that was truly overwhelmed. This was madness. Every inch of this case, this boy, these last six months. 'You couldn't write something as utterly unbelievable,' he thought. But here he was with one of the most unusual cases of his life and one of the most astounding kids he had ever met. A kid he'd shown how to whistle only six months ago. How does someone run away from an orphanage only to end up at Julliard?

And this boy, that piece, all these people. There weren't words. Not for this. It struck him at that moment that there was certainly an Oprah interview in this. Hell, he'd probably be one of the ones interviewed. 'Well how about that', he thought shaking his head.

It was then that he was close enough to take in Evan's full disposition. This bright-eyed, hopeful looking, whip of a kid. He'd gotten thinner since he'd met him at Walden Country Home. And though he'd responded to an endangered runaway notice tonight, the boy hadn't seemed to have sustained any obvious physical harm, and he didn't appear to be in any distress. There was seemingly no reluctance to take his place for his performance. He'd seen him shuffle over to the podium from the opposite side of the stage just as he'd made contact with the Reverend. He'd been the one to file the report. It was from him he had learnt that Evan had been staying with the mission for a time under the alias August Rush. It was the Reverend who had discovered that the young man was nothing short of a prodigy and brought him to Julliard. He'd kindly arranged to keep charge of the boy when his reports of August Rush to child services went unmatched. What disturbed Richard most deeply though was that the Reverend had said it was prompted by the boy being abruptly taken by his father. From the description Reverend James had shared, that he'd received from the staff at Julliard staff. That he was 5'8, a stocky man, with short rusty hair. Richard had guessed it was likely Maxwell Wallace. The one the kids call 'Wizard'. The report he'd filed with the NYPD had resulted in an unsuccessful raid after the child he'd spoken to on his rounds was followed to. There had been many children lodging in the abandoned theatre, but the children scattered, and they couldn't tell him more than that. They had only been able to hold Mr Wallace for 48 hours with no one to question. But despite his fear, for in the 8 years he'd managed cases like Evan's he'd been privy to too many of the horror stories that follow an endangered runaway report, Evan was here and hopefully whole and very ready to meet his mother.

Richard had nearly closed the distance when the older woman appeared to have just lost a battle to keep the boy in one spot. Evan broke into a sprint. Richard sprung forward and grabbed the boy around the waist before he could bound off the stage and disappear into the sea of bodies. 'Evan, wait', he said as the boy began to struggle.

'My parents. I have to get to them', he said continuing his struggle with a little less vehemence now that he'd taken in that it was not a stranger doing the restraining, but he still tried to wriggle free.

'They found me, my parents', exclaimed Evan, with an awed ring in his voice.

'Hold on, you've met your Mother then?' asked Richard. 'Ms. Novacek found you?'

Evan stopped at that and looked back again at him. 'Who?' he asked with a sort of hopeful bewilderment.

'Evan' he said as he took to one knee in front of him, he thought it felt right to tell him this at eye level. With that Evan stilled and looked directly at him. He reached out and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. 'Your mother came looking for you at my office five months ago. She's very eager to meet you.'

'Really?' the boy all but whispered. 'She came looking for me?'

'Her name is Lyla Novacek.' I replied with a nod.

At that moment Evan looked up and over my shoulder. His eyes had widened as if to take in a great landscape. Richard turned and peered up. And standing in a white gown, hair windswept, pink in her cheeks, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths stood none other than the woman herself. She stood as if she'd come to a very sudden halt. A tall, lean, light brown-haired man in a leather jacket was standing to her right. Her hand clutched very tightly in his. His face wore a warm smile directed at Evan. Hers was nothing short of devout. Tears began to glide down her face. There was still so much grace in this woman as she eased her stance and took what seemed like a slightly dazed step forward, then another. She let go of the man's hand and tentatively reached out toward Evan. Her eyes softened, her bottom lip quivered, a slight cautious smile played on her face. She slowly, gently knelt before the boy, as if not to frighten him. Richard quickly stood and moved a pace to Evan's right to give them some space.

'Do you…do you know who I am?' she gently asked Evan. Her eyes quickly darted to Richard for confirmation. He gave her a nod.

Evan just nodded and then threw his arms around her neck. Tears streaming down the boy's face. He mumbled into her hair something that sounded like, 'you heard me'.

'Yes, baby. I heard you'. She replied. Wrapping her arms more fully around him and pulling him tighter. 'I heard you.' She repeated like a prayer. 'I heard you.'

They rocked gently back and forth. A soothing motion like she was rocking a much smaller child to sleep. Watching on Richard was filled with the kind of satisfaction that is so rarely felt in this job. A true reunion. A lost child found. A child that had never truly been unwanted; but stolen. He was looking forward to seeing Evan legally back in the custody of this woman who clearly had so much love to offer him. It was then that Richard took in the man that stood a few paces behind her. He'd slowly moved closer. A warm crooked smile playing on his lips as he looked down at them. There was curiosity in his face as if he wasn't fully aware of the gravity of the reunion that was taking place in front of him.

'You weren't lyin' then kid. That was quite the show,' he said as Evan pulled back slightly to take him in.

Lyla turned and peered up at him with a start. 'You've met?' she said with genuine shock.

The man took a step forward and ruffled the boy's hair with a grin, then peered back down at the woman with a look that he might have called shy if he hadn't arrived here with her, clutching her hand. 'August and I had a bit of a jam session in Washington Square today.' He turned his attention back to Evan and said, 'glad to see you made it tonight.' 'And doesn't look like anythin' bad happened, ay' he added almost conspiratorially. Ms Novacek just seemed to look backward and forward between then. Surprise on her face.

'You never give up on your music. No matter what,' Evan responded up to the man with a smile. His cheeks still shinning with the remanence of his tears.

A slightly uncertain look came over the newly reunited mother's face and she peered up at Richard. 'I'd like to take Evan back to my dressing room to speak with him.' She peered back at Evan and asked 'would that be ok with you? There's…,' she hesitated, 'there's a story I'd like to tell you.' 'Tell both of you,' she added, directed up at the man behind her. It was at that moment Richard took him in fully. The light brown, unruly hair, the narrow face, the sharp blue eyes, and it became clearer why he would be joining the conversation. The man nodded, one eyebrow slightly raised, he seemed a little confused at the request, but in no way reluctant. He then quickly glanced up at Richard clearly more confused as to why he was being asked if that was ok. Richard decided to be subtle with his response as it was clear she wanted to share this revelation in her own way, and with some privacy.

'I would have to join you at this stage, Ms Novacek,' he said gently. He imagined that was not what she'd want to hear. 'Just until we sorted this out more formally.' He thought the word 'legally' might alarm the man. She returned her gaze to Richard and nodded slightly in resolve and stood. Offering a hand to Evan, which he took, she walked us towards the back of the stage, down the stairs, and across the lawn to a trailer.


	3. Chapter 3

_Lyla's POV_

Lyla, with her son's hand in hers, reached for the handle of her trailer door and opened it. She would have stood back to politely usher the others in first, but she couldn't release her boy's hand to do so. Her boy. Warmth flooded her body, helping brace her for the conversation she was about to have. It was all so overwhelming. The utter joy of peering up to see her boy on that stage, to know that she'd found him. The amazement at his slight form conducting the Philharmonic. There still weren't words to describe the piece they played that spoke to every inch of her being. The music that called out to her across the expanse of the park; carrying her back to that stage. And the fairy tale of feeling a hand gently, hesitantly slide into hers, to peer up and find him. Louis. Here. Those striking blue eyes peering down at her, through her, the way he had that distant night ago, on a rooftop not so far from here. That night was the first and last time she'd felt truly seen. As though his gaze had laid her soul bare before him, and that he found it beautiful. It was unmistakable. He truly felt that way. Louis wore his whole soul, every inch of his being on his face. Without hesitation, without guile. It's why she hadn't hesitated when he'd leaned in to touch his lips to hers. Why she hadn't been scared to reach for him. To hold him. To lose herself in him. It was the truest moment of her life. She'd never felt so loved as she did by that boy for that one night.

She'd since relived that next morning, when her father had forced her to leave, a thousand times over the years. If she'd just fought harder. Just ran. But at the time her father's wrath was still the thing that frightened her more than anything else in the world. That was until the morning she woke up in a hospital bed without her son. To be told she'd lost him. Realising that she'd done it. Rushed into the traffic that took his life. The anger she felt at that moment. The hopelessness that consumed her. The depth of that loss. Her baby boy was gone. Anything else that could have previously frightened her in this world was the palest shade of grey compared to the black abyss she found herself facing. One she hadn't emerged from until she realised what her father was finally admitting to her. That her boy wasn't gone. Or lost. He'd been taken. The fire she felt in that moment set that abyss alight and she'd been brimming with that flame ever since. And now, well, she wasn't quite sure what she felt. She felt everything. The echo of that loss, the depth of that rekindled fire, overwhelming joy in both of her reunions, anger for the years they'd lost, fury that her beautiful boy had never known family, or care, or the love of a mother, or father, disgust toward her father for having done this to him, regret for having believed him, and anxiety about the possible reactions to the story she would now have to share with these two boys that she loved. How would her son be able to forgive all that he'd endured? And Louis, to discover this boy was his son. She had always feared that he would have hated her after that day she walked away from him. And though his eyes told her otherwise, how was he going to feel when he discovered that she left carrying his child?

She moved toward the small seating space in the back corner, next to her dressing table. It consisted of a short makeup stool and couch that was not much larger than a love seat. With one hand she pulled the stool parallel with the arm of the couch, lowered herself onto it, and ushered the two boys onto the couch. Still clutching her hand, Evan perched on the end closer to her, their joined hands resting on the arm, and smiled up at Louis, obviously pleased at the proximity of the man tucked in next to him. Louis softly bumped shoulders with the boy and gave him a wink. He had a nervousness to him he didn't before but evidently wanted to ensure Evan felt comfortable. The small affectionate act filled her with a rush of hope, that held the flood of other emotions at bay long enough for her to take a deep breath and straighten her spine. Her boy looked up at her with so much warmth and openness, that she couldn't help but lean forward and run a hand through his hair and down to his cheek. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. She felt her tears well again.

'Once upon a time,' she all but whispered, 'a shy girl snuck out of a busy, crowded room to be alone with the stars, and the music the wind had carried across from Washington Square. There she discovered a boy. A boy who liked to talk to the moon.'

She shifted her gaze to Louis. He went very still at her words, sitting up a little straighter.

'When the boy spoke, it sounded like a melody. She felt like she'd known him for a very long time. She fell in love with him almost instantly. But when she went to see him again her father stopped her and made her leave without saying goodbye.'

She peered down into her lap, taking a shuddering breath, a tear escaped her eye. She felt a flutter of apprehension in her chest. And then a small squeeze of her hand. She looked up to see Evan, a soft half-smile on his face, glistening blue eyes asking her to go on.

'When she found out she was going to have a baby, she didn't know how to find the boy to tell him.'

At that, she forced her eyes to meet Louis'.

'What…' he breathed. One hand reaching to clutch the arm of the chair. His face a mask of shock. She pressed on.

'Her father was very angry. He didn't want her to have the baby. One night she fought with him and rushed out onto the road to get away. And she was hit by a car.'

The two boys gasped sharply together. Almost in unison. Louis was ghostly pale. Evan's smile had vanished. His lips pursed in a little O of surprise.

'When she woke the next day in hospital', she took a deep breath, the tears flowing freely now, 'her baby was gone. Her father told her that he didn't survive.'

Louis' knuckles were white on the couch arm. A tear slid down his cheek. 'Lyla…' he breathed, but nothing else followed. As if all the words had left him.

She peered back to Evan and spoke directly to him. 'She lost her heart that day.'

She could feel her tears seeping through her dress.

'And then, six months ago, I was called to see my father in the hospital.' She lost all pretences of her story at that moment. 'And there he confessed to me that he had lied. That my baby hadn't been lost. That he'd…' a sob broke from her, 'that he'd given him away.'

She couldn't look at Louis' she could already feel the turmoil radiating from him. She just stared deeply into Evan's eyes. 'And that's when I came looking for you.' Evan gave a sniffle and wiped a tear from his cheek with the back of his sleeve. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. It was then she felt Louis' knees impact the carpet.

'He's our boy,' he rasped, reaching a hand to clasp Evan's shoulder. 'He's my son?' There was so much wonder, and shock, and hope, and apprehension, in that one question.

'Yes.' Lyla replied. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she locked eyes with her boy's father.

'August', he all but chocked, turning to face him more fully. His other hand coming up to cupped his cheek. His hand engulfing it. 'I…', his mouth remained parted, the tears fell from his eyes as they darted across the boy's face, as if soaking up every inch of him as he searched for the words, and when nothing followed the small boy loosened his grip on Lyla's hand and launched himself forward, wrapping his small arms around Louis' neck. Louis didn't hesitate for a second to return the embrace. And as the boys clutched each other ever so tightly she felt her smile grow. It was a sad smile. One that was hearted by Louis' reaction, but mourned the time they'd lost together. The time they'd all lost.

The two boys stayed like that for some time. Eventually, Louis pulled back only to clasp Evan's face in his hands and press their foreheads together. 'I felt somethin'…' he said. 'In the park.' He paused, searching for words to match the feeling. He parted their faces and looked into his eyes. 'I knew you'. A smile stretched Evan's face. He gave a small nod of agreeance in reply. They just gazed at each other, until Louis seemed to surface from wherever they'd been lost to. 'Wait, where have you been? Who have you been with? You were in the park, there was a man…' he trailed off. Looking up at Lyla. And at that Lyla said nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

_Louis' POV_

Louis didn't think his body, his heart, his soul could take one more world-shattering piece of information tonight. In the space of a few minutes, he'd felt loss that could span a galaxy for the life that was stolen from them, a boy, his son, who had been lost to an accident. And for Lyla, for what she'd endured and alone. He'd never felt hate for anything or anyone as strongly as he felt in that moment for the man who had kept them apart. Only to have the world tilt over on its axis again as she whispered the lie it had been. And when she had told August that she had then come looking for him the universe fractured. Everything slowed as he tried to reorient himself. And then everything clicked. Everything radiated. He had a son. This was his son. It was discovering you had everything you could have dreamed of but didn't know you wanted, only to have it yanked from you, and then to immediately discover, no, you're sitting next to it. And this boy. This beautiful, alight, brilliant, gentle, graceful little boy. He was his. 'My God', he thought, 'he is so much like his mother'. He could see it now. He couldn't take his hands or his eyes off the lad. He wanted to bask in every inch of the light the wee fella gave off. He could feel his heart swelling with something he couldn't name. It was so intense, so blissful, it was painful. And then the flood of thoughts started to flow in – if only he'd known, how he wished he'd known, he'd missed his whole life so far. Someone else had gotten to raise him. And then his thoughts cut off with a horrified jolt. And the questions spilled out. Where had his boy been? Who HAD raised him?

A wash of profound pain crossed Lyla's face at the questions. The silence stretched on. He turned back to August who didn't offer a response either, but at that, he realised he'd been holding his face so tightly that he may not have been able to. He slid his hands to his shoulders, unable to bear the idea of breaking contact, his hands shaking slightly. Again, August didn't offer anything. No doubt feeling the tension rolling from them both. His eyes shifting down. At that, he felt horror boiling up in his gut. He didn't think he could bear it. To hear what would follow. He'd seen the loneliness in August earlier that day. He'd seen the fear as he peered over at the man who shouted his name.

As Louis scrambled for a way to get answers he knew he didn't want, just as there was a small scrape and a muffled cough from across the room. They all jumped slightly and peered toward it. The man Lyla had brought with them stepped forward. He had completely forgotten he was there. It seemed Lyla had too. Louis realised he must have been leaning against the door in the entryway, just behind the open shelving. Possibly watching the whole scene unfold through the gaps. His eyes shifted between the three of them. His shoulders squared and he turned to address Louis directly. 'My name is Richard Jeffries. I'm from child services. And I've been managing your son's case since he was assigned to me at Walden Country Home for Boys. An orphanage in Orange County, New York.' Louis felt his heart shatter.


	5. Chapter 5

_August's POV_

August had never realised it was possible to ever be this happy. He'd been found. And his parents loved him. He knew it. He could feel it. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Like he had fallen into the warmest bed imaginable and had his insides filled with butterflies, and hot chocolate, and music. The most beautiful music in the world. As beautiful as his mother, who's hair was like a halo with the light of the lamp bouncing off her curls. She had pink cheeks, kind eyes, and the softest hands, but her fingers tips were rough like his had become at Julliard. They tickled his palm a little when she'd taken his hand. He liked it. He liked her so much.

And then there was his father. It was like a wish come true. He hadn't made the wish in the park, because he thought the most important wish to have was to find his parents. But if he'd had another wish it would have been for his Dad to be like the man from the square. With his warm and playful smile, his kind words, and his music that was like gentle, tickling sparks he could feel dancing over his skin. He made everything feel clearer in the mess of the day. He'd felt sad and scared, but then the nice musician man made him feel braver. And now he was here and he was happy to be his dad. Very shocked, but he had hugged August and called him 'his son'. So, he was pretty sure he wanted to stay his dad.

But things felt suddenly very different when his father had asked where he'd been. There was something strangled and fierce about it. Like he might be angry at the answer. And Angus didn't want his new Dad to be angry, so he kept quiet. He could hear the song of the room change then. He was so full of all that had happened after the concert he'd barely heard the music until then. But he could feel it now, and it held its breath, a breath it was desperate to let out. It was then that Mr Jeffries had stepped out from behind the shelf and introduced himself. That's when his dad's hands started shaking. He didn't know how to make it stop. To make him happy again. He looked toward him Mum and she was sad too. Her hands had gathered up some of her dress at the knees and were squeezing it tightly. It was then that he looked up at Mr Jeffries. A look of concern was on his face.

'I believe it would be best if we discussed the details of Evan's case in more detail', 'and privacy' he added nodding towards me, 'tomorrow'. Another tear ran down August's mother's face.

'Evan?' his father inquired softly.

'Evan Taylor is your son's legal name, Mr…' he trailed off.

'Connolly', his Dad replied after a beat of silence. He sounded dazed.

His Mum looked up at that. A little surprise on her face. August though maybe she hadn't heard that name before.

And that's when he noticed something. 'Mum's right', he offered.

His father's eyes darted to his. August realised that he hadn't said anything to his Dad yet. Since he found out he was his Dad that is. 'Your words do sound like a melody'.

A smile tugged up at the corners of Dad's mouth. 'Why is that?' August added.

'That's because I'm Irish', he said.

His Dad smile grew then. 'Well, you're really gonna like your Uncle and Aunts then too.'

August's eyes grew with a start. 'I have an Uncle and Aunt?' he all but whispered. Hope clear in his voice. He'd only ever imagined his parents finding him and getting to be with them. He'd never imagined himself with more than that. He couldn't quite imagine what that would be like.

'Aunts', his Dad corrected, and with a mischievous, affectionate grin he added, 'though your Uncle Marshall swears a lot. I doubt your mother would be keen on you havin' to put up with the likes of his crass, she's already had enough of him to last a lifetime.'

And with a look of recognition, a smile spread across his Mum's face. They just looked at each other over me. He heard zapping like the sound those powerlines outside the boys home had made.

After a few moments Mr Jeffries spoke again, and again they all jerked like they had forgotten he was there.

'Perhaps we can settle on a time to meet and continue our discussion of Evan's case tomorrow as it is very late and…' he paused briefly, eyes shifting between his parents. With a sigh, he continued, 'I'll have to take Evan with me for the night. I'm sorry, I know it's not what you'd like to hear, but I'm legally obligated to do so. And it would likely be harmful to your case if we didn't follow the necessary protocols.'

'What do you mean our case?' said his Dad as he stood. 'We're his parents. How can he not come with us?' There was something in his voice August couldn't place. It seemed to make Mr Jeffries stand a little taller, but at the same time hold his hands out in a calming way.

'Because we have documents holding Lyla Novacek's signature releasing her son to the state, and at present, we have no evidence of her father's falsification,' he said sternly. 'Let's make a time for you to come to my office first thing tomorrow and we can begin exploring how we'll proceed.'

'But my signature's not on anythin',' my Dad added quickly. He'd reached out and gently but firmly wrapped an arm around August's shoulder like it would keep him there.

'No, but neither is your name on Evan's birth certificate, Mr Connolly.'

Dad's eyes glanced at Mum before he ran his free hand over his face and through his hair, grabbing a handful of it as he did. As he pulled it away his hair stood up messy and on end. He might have giggled at the sight if the room wasn't so tense.

'Where will you take him?' his Mum added, standing now, freshwater welling in her eyes. She reached out and touched his head.

Mr Jeffries paused as if considering. He looked at the three of us. August's shoulders hunched in under his Dad's arm. He just got his parents back. He didn't want to leave them.

'It's just short of 1 am. It's too late to drive him out to Orange County. So, I could take him to St Pauls mission with Reverend James, who Evan knows, and has previously been permitted to hold Evan in his charge.'

At the look on both his parent's faces Mr Jeffries quickly, yet gently pressed on. 'Though considering the late hour, I could record it as an emergency case, and take Evan home with me for the night, and bring him to the office in the morning.'

My parents looked at each other, hesitance dancing on their faces. At that Mr Jeffries added, 'the only other option is for me to take Evan to the police station.'

His Mum's jolted. 'No. If you could please take him, I'd…' she trailed off. 'Thank you,' she added with a soft sadness. Mr Jeffries gave her a nod and looked at my father for a long moment. Dad seemed to deflate and gave a nod too. 'I'll give you a moment to say goodnight. We'll see you at 10 am tomorrow,' said Mr Jeffries as he moved toward the door. As he did, he felt his Dad's arms wrap all the way around him as his Mum knelt and took his face in both her hands. Her eyes were welling again.

'I'll see you tomorrow?' asked August. It came out softer than he meant.

'First thing', his mother replied stroking his hair back.

August hesitated for a moment. 'You promise?' he added. He felt his Dad's arms hold him tighter.

The tears spilled over his Mum's eyelids then as she nodded and said, 'Yes, we promise' with an exhale, as though it hurt. His Dad loosened his hold then and knelt next to him.

'Hey, if it meant we could stay together now I'd have thrown you over me shoulder a good few minutes ago and run you off into the sunset.' And with what would have been a cheeky wink if his Dad didn't have tears on his face he added, 'Wild horses couldn't stop me.' August grinned at that. His Dad had such an honest face. And he believed him.

A pointed cough sounded from the door. August slowly stepped back and made his way toward the door. He turned to give a small wave back and then followed Mr Jeffries out into the star-filled night.


End file.
